by Mira Stables
Piers, returning to bid his aunt good night after delivering his cousin over to the doctor’s hands, found her weeping softly.
“It’s that poor child,” she said apologetically. “And we can do nothing.”
“Recollect that she is valuable to them,” said Piers with a confidence that he did not feel. “They will not harm her while there is hope of collecting the ransom.”
His aunt choked on a repressed sob, but her face brightened a little. “Bless you, Piers. You always know how to comfort one. I will try to remember that. And you? You must be quite worn out. Promise me that you, too, will try to snatch some sleep.”
“There is certainly nothing else that I can do before daylight,” he said wearily. “It’s so simple, Aunt Nell, to give good advice to others. Not quite so easy to follow it oneself.” He stooped and kissed her cheek. “Pray for her,” he said softly, and left the house.
Chapter Sixteen
PELLY was in no particular hurry to release his prisoner. He and Harry went in to the mouldering kitchen, leaving Will to stable the horses, with strict orders not to approach the girl or answer her if she called out to him. They then indulged in a brisk quarrel over Dan’s refusal to permit Harry to kindle a fire. A candle they must have, but there was to be no fire to betray them by its smoke or its lingering traces. Harry cursed vigorously, stamped his feet and swung his arms and vowed they were more like to be betrayed by three hard frozen corpses, but Dan would not be moved. Will came in, blowing on numbed fingers, and began to bring food out of an old meal chest, left behind by the original owners as being too heavy to be removed.
As Will had told his cousin Elspeth, his new employers fed him well. Tonight, for some reason, and despite his long fast, the food did not tempt him. He watched the other two dispose of a giblet pie, and when Harry began to carve a knuckle of ham, Will took a piece of bread and ate a few mouthfuls of bread and ham, but with so little appetite that Pelly scowled across at him and said, in the contemptuous drawl that he reserved for Will, “Squeamish, Booberkin? You’ve seen naught yet. Wait till you see how we treat those that think to play us false. Such a one would be thankful for swift death before we’d done with him. Aye, and beg for it, if so be as he had a tongue left to beg with.” But since Will only looked sullenly down at his boots and went on stolidly munching bread and ham, he abandoned the attempt to get a rise out of the boy and applied himself instead to the gin bottle which Harry had just brought out.
Much strengthened by this revivifying cordial, he rubbed the grease from his mouth with the back of his hand, lit a stump of candle in an old stable lantern, and announced his intention of loosing the prisoner’s bonds. “And you’d best bring her some of that bread and ham,” he said to Harry in an afterthought. “Don’t want her dying on our hands, do we, the pretty dear. Worth nothing to us dead, and she’s just the miserable poor spirited sort of creature that ’ud up and die on us just for spite.”
There was no harm in letting the wench sweat a bit over her lover’s fate, he thought, climbing the ladder in leisurely fashion. “Twould but make her the more biddable. He hung the lantern on a hook and freed the girl’s hands before he answered the agonised question in the dark eyes.
“Yes, my dear. All went smooth as cream. Your young man went off to collect your price, just as meek and good as you was. You’ve naught to worry your pretty head about.”
Since she could not imagine how he could profit by lying to her, she accepted the statement about Giles as basically true, and ignored the insolent familiarity of the man’s attitude, merely turning aside her head in disgust when he put his arms about her to come at the padlock which secured her to the wall. He need not have subjected her to this particular indignity — he could have reached the padlock much more handily from the side — but it amused him to see her shrinking revulsion from the enforced contact with his body, and being now full-fed and with time on his hands, he was in the mood for entertainment. So as the hasp opened and he released the strap he kept one arm about her waist, pushed up her chin roughly with the other, and said brazenly, “And how about a kiss for the bringer of such good tidings?” and fastened his greedy mouth over hers.
Never was a man so surprised. Relieved of the paralysing fear for Giles, Clemency was herself again, no longer prepared to submit meekly to insult and mishandling. Up came one hand to deliver a resounding slap across the grinning face, and as he involuntarily jerked his head away, small white teeth drew blood from the marauding hand that had begun to fondle her throat.
He drew back for a moment and gaped in amazement at the young termagant who had so suddenly taken the place of his docile captive. Then a wide amused grin curled the red mouth. “You young vixen!” he said, half admiringly. “And me to think there was no spirit in you! Well now, if that’s to be the way of it, come on my lass, and we’ll see who wins. Come to think of it, I’ve never sampled a quality maid. ’Twill be a new experience,” and with a swift pounce caught her in his arms again.
She fought him desperately, with all her small strength, kicking at his legs and pounding at his chest and head with puny fists, to his huge delight. He had twisted one hand in her hair, holding her easily at arms’ length, and now as he forced her back against the wall his free hand wrenched away her cloak and tugged impatiently at the neck of her gown with intent to rip it from her shoulders. She was almost done, her breath coming in moaning gasps, the flailing hands dropping weakly to her sides, though still she struggled to twist away from him. And then, in the very moment of defeat, her fingers touched cold iron and clasped themselves about the padlock. In his careless contempt, Pelly had not bothered to close the hasp. It slid sweetly into her hand, reviving her spirit and strength. With a flash of desperate feminine cunning she closed her eyes and swayed towards him. Assured of victory he released his grip on her hair and stooped to sweep her off her feet. In that brief unguarded moment the hand that held the padlock rose and crashed down on his head, all her deadly fear behind the blow, and her assailant slid unconscious to the floor.
Only then, as she drew a deep shuddering breath and stepped over the prostrate body bent on seizing her chance of escape, did she realise that there were two spectators of the ugly scene. Harry, bearing a platter of food, had just ascended the ladder in time to see the final phase of the struggle. Will, a bucket of water in one hand, was half way up, his head and shoulders protruding through the trap, eyes and mouth wide in astonishment and not a little admiration. “Good for the little ’un,” trembled on his lips, but discretion revived and he waited for Harry to speak. The girl faced them, crouched like a tiger-cat ready to spring, the padlock clutched in a determined hand.
“Now just you put that there padlock down, Missy,” said Harry severely. “I don’t want to hurt you and I’m not even saying you wasn’t right to do what you done. But if it comes to a fight betwixt you and me, you’ll find my knife’s a sight quicker than yon lump of iron.” And he pulled out the evil glittering thing and flourished it with impressive effect. Clemency hesitated. She knew she could not hope to outmatch two vigorous and watchful men, but she was loth to surrender the instrument of her salvation.
Harry saw the hesitation and pressed his advantage. “Be sensible, Miss. Neither me nor Will’ll do you a mite of harm. And as for Dan’l there — well you’ve cooled his blood for him. Don’t know as I’ve seen anything neater in all my puff, and serve him right, says I. Never could let a lass alone. But we’ll not let him next nor nigh you again. You’re worth a lot o’ money to us so long as you’re safe and well, so stands to reason we’ll take good care of you. See, I’d brought you a bite of supper, and Will there has brought you some water. We ’adn’t got no milk. But there’s a sup o’ gin if you’ve a fancy for that,” he added with unwonted generosity, inspired by his private satisfaction in seeing Dan get his comeuppance for once.
In its peculiar warped way it was an honest approach. An appeal for freedom would be useless. She was ‘worth a lot of money’. But wit
hin his limits he would treat her decently.
“Very well,” she said, and came a step or two towards him, the padlock extended on her open palm. He took it from her and dropped it into a capacious pocket. “That’s more like it,” he said, not unkindly, and the knife disappeared to join the padlock.
“Now here’s your victuals, Miss, and Will, set the bucket here against the wall. I can’t leave you the lantern, case you set the place afire, so you’ll have to manage as best you can by moonlight.” He jerked his head towards one end of the loft where a number of small round holes pierced the stone, allowing a faint light to filter in. “There’s plenty of hay, so you’ll be snug enough. Will — bring up one of those horse blankets for the lady.”
Will departed. Harry went on seriously, “But don’t be thinking you can get away, just because you’re not tied up. This ladder goes down into the stallion’s loose box — and he’s a killer. You’d be mashed to bloody pulp inside of two minutes if you tried it.”
With a vivid memory of the great black brute that had come at them from the hedge, the vicious head, the laid back ears, and the wicked bloodshot eyes, Clemency did not doubt it. Her heart sank, but she maintained a steady composure and thanked Harry politely for both the food and the warning. Will came back with the blanket and then helped Harry to lower the still senseless Pelly down the ladder.
It was while they were so engaged that Clemency at last identified the lad as Will Overing. When last she had seen him his hair had been neatly cropped. Now it had grown long and hung in wild elf locks about his narrow gypsy face. But when he shook it back in order to watch his footing on the ladder, she knew him at once. Some instinctive caution prevented her from proclaiming this discovery, yet somehow, in spite of his obvious association with the highwaymen, it lit a tiny spark of hope. Will was a part of her safe familiar world. He could not, she felt, be wholly evil. There might be some way in which she could appeal to him or bribe him to help her — but not in front of Harry.
With this small gleam of comfort to support her spirits she ate the food that had been brought her and drank some of the water from her cupped hands. She must do all she could to keep up her strength so as to be ready to snatch at any chance of escape. With this brave resolve she made her preparations for sleep, feeling about her in the darkness until she found her cloak and then scooping herself a nest in the hay. Her movements disturbed the stallion in the stable below, and he uttered a shrill squeal of protest. She shuddered. Then she curled herself into the refuge she had made, pulled the blanket over her and composed herself resolutely to get what sleep she could.
In the cottage, the groaning cursing Pelly, having come to his senses upon having a bucket of cold water thrown over him, was clutching his aching head and listening morosely to Harry’s eloquence on the subject of tampering with a girl who represented a fortune for both of them. “Why, you might have done for her! Them plucky little ones, they never gives in. They fights you till they dies. And what would Barney have had to say about that? So I’m speaking my mind for once. I’m not letting you near that wench again. Stable key’s in my keeping, and there it stops.”
In his present state of physical misery Pelly had temporarily lost interest in all females. He grunted surly submission, but added a rider to the effect that if the ransom was not forthcoming he should have his pleasure of the girl without interference or rivalry. Harry agreed to that quite amiably — it was a matter of indifference to him. He was more concerned with the means to be used in collecting the money and in ensuring their own safety while engaged in that ticklish task.
“Reckon I’ve got that worked out,” said Pelly. “We’ll have it left at the foot of the gallows post at Buckstone cross roads at midnight next Saturday. That’ll take care that there’s no one about, for no one in his senses would linger in such a spot at that hour unless he had business there.”
Harry signified approval.
“Full of the moon on Sunday, so we shall be able to spot any sign of trickery,” continued Pelly, ticking off each cogent point on his fingers. “Also, with four roads meeting, who’s to say which one we’ll use, either coming or going?”
“It would need a company of militia to stop the place properly,” agreed Harry with satisfaction.
“They’ll not call in troops,” said Pelly confidently. “We’d be bound to see them on the move, and then it would be all up with Missy, as well they do know.”
Harry chewed over the details carefully in his slower moving mind. Then he said, “And who’s to tell them all this?”
“Missy shall write a letter,” said Pelly. “I’m a moderate penman myself, but her hand of write’ll carry more conviction. And you’d best warn her not to put in aught but what you tell her — for I can read as well as the next one.”
Harry could see no fault with this plan save their lack of writing materials, and Will could easily purchase those, along with the fresh supplies of food which they would now need. And since that seemed to cover all their requirements for the immediate future, they settled down to finish the gin.
Chapter Seventeen
THE Limp and rather grubby missive — it had suffered from sharing Will’s pocket with a half eaten apple — was delivered at Ash Croft just before noon on Wednesday. Her parents still lingering in York, for since they could do nothing to help it had been decided that they should not be apprised of the new tragedy that had befallen the unfortunate family, it fell to Prudence, on seeing that familiar script, to open the letter. She perused its contents with a fast beating heart, and after a second, more careful, reading, set out at once to carry it to the Manor. At least it assured her that her sister was alive, and though paper and ink were of the cheapest and the pen had sadly needed mending, the writing itself was clear and firm. The matter had obviously been dictated by Clee’s captors and simply described the way in which the ransom was to be paid over. It ended by saying that she was well treated, and begged her friends not to try to trace her, since at the first sign of any such attempt her jailers would disappear, and in that case there was no knowing what her fate would be.
Finding the Manor deserted by all but the servants, Prudence waited with what patience she might, reading and re-reading the letter, though indeed by now she had it by heart, and taking what comfort she could from the strength and steadiness of the writing and the fact that it was undoubtedly Clemency’s own. Being fortunately unacquainted with villainy, the threat implicit in the last paragraph missed its mark.
Piers was the first to arrive, and that merely for a change of horses, the grey, Sultan, that he had ridden since dawn being completely done up. Piers looked pretty done up himself, thought Prudence compassionately. Since Clemency’s abduction he had spent long hours in the saddle ranging the countryside, only surrendering to the need for sleep during the brief period of complete darkness after moonset. He had lost weight, so that the high cheekbones showed stark beneath the bronzed skin, and the resolute jaw angled more grimly than ever.
When Prudence mutely held out the letter, the light that glowed for a moment in his eyes was betrayal enough, even if she had not already guessed his feelings for her twin.
As she had done herself, he read it first greedily, then more slowly, as though savouring the strength of every stroke and curve traced by those small beloved fingers. A little of the weariness disappeared from his bearing, and he actually sat down for a few minutes, long booted legs stretched out in unaccustomed ease. “At least we know she’s alive,” he said with deep, prayerful thankfulness. For a moment he brooded on the ineffable relief of this thought. Then he was on his feet again, striding about the floor, his tired brain seeking to wring every scrap of information from the letter.
Lady Eleanor and Giles came in some ten minutes later, just as he was on the point of departure. He lingered to hear their comments on the letter, and their report. For a third time the spluttering lines were devoured and digested by anxious eyes. The newcomers were at one in avering their confidence in
the writer’s health, insisting that any vagaries were due to the shocking pen that had been used, protesting perhaps a little too much in their eagerness to give comfort, until Pru said, “Yes — perhaps — but she must have been sadly distraught, for it is not like Clee to make so lavish and peculiar a use of capital letters.”
Without apology Piers put out a hand and twitched the letter from his aunt’s grasp. “I had not noticed,” he said shortly, “being unacquainted with Miss Longden’s usual style. Yes. I see. There we have ‘brought Over to the cross roads’, and ‘left In plain sight’, and ‘beg you Will not try to trace me’. Could there be a hidden message in those words?”
But Giles was already exclaiming in excitement, and Lady Eleanor had sprung to her feet, face alight with eagerness.
“Will Overing,” they exclaimed, almost in unison. And Giles added, “It fits, Mama! It fits!”
Between them, with many interruptions and corrections, they poured out their story. That morning they had stayed for a nuncheon at the inn at Follifoot, and over the simple meal had pursued their usual tactics of enquiring casually as to the state of trade and the incidence of strangers, drawing, as usual, a complete blank. But when Giles had gone to settle the reckoning the landlady had shyly asked if he would be so kind as to bear a message to her cousin. She was, she explained, cousin to Mrs. Grant, his gardener’s wife, and she thought that the Grants would be pleased to have good news of their nephew, Will. She had seen quite a bit of Will over the past week or so. He had been coming in regularly, buying supplies for his employers. He had found a job, she explained, with some horse dealers. He might do well, the way he had with horses.
Giles had shown a proper interest in Overing’s welfare, and the good woman had become quite loquacious, even saying, with a demure look, that she believed the lad was courting. The Grants would be pleased to hear that, she knew, since they had always disapproved the close attachment between Will and their daughter Elspeth, who were first cousins any way, apart from Will’s harum-scarum ways. When Lady Eleanor had enquired the name of Will’s new inamorata, the landlady had admitted that she did not know. But he had asked her to get him a comb and some hair ribbons, and then, of all things, he had borrowed paper and ink and a pen. That could only mean love letters and courtship.